The Mark of a Rogue (Scandalous Sons 2)

Like the gentleman himself, Lawrence Trent’s townhouse in Manchester Square was of impressive proportions. Verity accepted the footman’s gloved hand as she stepped out of the carriage to survey the four-storey facade. Heavens. Most ladies would feel a rush of excitement at dining with a man possessed of such a vast fortune. But the grandeur only highlighted his mother’s need to show wealth as opposed to love. Indeed, Verity’s heart ached for the poor boy nobody wanted.

“Welcome, Miss Vale.” Lawrence broke with etiquette and descended the three stone steps to greet her on the pavement. He wore a smoke-grey coat that hugged his broad shoulders, buckskin breeches that clung to his muscular thighs. He stole her hand away from his footman. “Thank you, Carter. I shall take it from here.”

The footman bowed and returned to the house.

“I should warn you,” he began, pausing to press a kiss on her knuckles, “Mrs Henderson has gone to a ridiculous amount of trouble. The extravagant bill of fare is enough to appease a king. Don’t gasp if jugglers jump out from the alcove and trumpeters play a fanfare.” He laughed. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

“Am I to understand that you never entertain ladies at home?”

“Never.”

“Then I’m flattered you chose to dine with me tonight.”

Their gazes locked.

As always, the energy of barely contained passion exploded in the air between them. The urge to kiss him tied her stomach up in knots. Heat warmed her sex, and she wasn’t sure how she would last through the courses.

“I imagine my housekeeper will monitor the proceedings like a hawk watching over her hatchlings.” Lawrence offered his arm. “Come, let me give you a tour of the house before we dine.”

She took his arm, edged her hand higher to rest on the bulging muscle. A shiver raced through her in anticipation of what the night would bring. They had no need to worry about the Brethren or silly passages underlined in a book. Tonight, there would be no distractions.

“I was rather lonely in the hotel room without you last night.” The magistrate had kept him at Queen Square until the early hours, along with Mr Wycliff and Mr Cavanagh, though she’d heard from Mrs Wycliff that the magistrate had shared his best bottle of port and her husband had come home drunk.

Lawrence guided Verity in through the hall, a functional space with polished oak floors and clean white walls, and no sign of the ostentatious decoration seen in many grand homes. “Did Miss Trimble not keep you awake all night with questions about the Brethren?”

“Yes, but I found her stories far more interesting. She once worked as a governess for a gentleman who secretly kidnapped his own daughter. The uncle paid the ransom, unaware of the truth until the child let slip her father’s devious plan.”

“She did admit to having a knowledge of rogues, though I shall never exchange a cross word with the woman again. Had it not been for her inquisitive nature, I might not have found you in time.” His voice quivered upon uttering the last few words.

“I’m the one who made the foolish mistake of climbing into the carriage.” She gripped his arm and cast him a sidelong glance. “I should have stayed at the hotel, but I was worried about you.”

He touched her cheek. “I know. But I could kill Bradley a hundred times, and it would not ease the guilt.”

“Fate was on our side.” No one could argue otherwise. “We were meant to succeed because life has other plans for us.” Her heart soared at the prospect of spending eternity locked in his embrace. “Glorious plans. Amazing adventures.”

His eyes brightened, and the smile touching his lips turned sinful. “There’s something I want to show you before Mrs Henderson discovers you’re here and swoops in to make your acquaintance. It could wait, but impatience prevails.”

He drew her into the study—a room decorated in a calm sage green. The walnut bookcases housed close to three hundred volumes, all ordered depending upon their size and the autumnal colours of their leather bindings.

“I wish I could say my mother saw books as an investment,” he said upon noting her interest. “But I’m told she had an affair with a poet who only took educated women to his bed.”

Verity released his arm and strode over to the nearest bookcase. “And what if she was meant to purchase them for a reason that is yet to become apparent?” She trailed her finger over the spines and stopped at one that made her smile. “This book on land management might be particularly useful. I welcome any help when tackling the new agricultural methods I’ve heard mentioned.”

She could feel the heat of his penetrating stare before she turned to face him.

Beguiling green eyes searched her face. “Have I told you how remarkable you are?”

The comment brought a tear to her eye. No one had ever said such a wonderful thing. “I’m not sure you have.”

He strode over and closed the door. “Then let me tell you again.”

When he drew her into his arms and kissed her, she almost did cry. It was more than a delicious melding of mouths. The essence of the man wove its way into her body, swirling down into her stomach until she was panting

with need.

He broke contact. “I’m in love with you, Verity. So in love with you, I can barely rouse a rational thought.”

Joy burst to life in her chest. “While you’ve intimated that might be the case, that’s the first time you’ve spoken the words.”